A Little More
by PallaPlease
Summary: Wherein Miyako learns that boys, even ones who are friends, can be a little...Includes Sorato, to boot!  [Complete]


A Little More  
  
A Miyako/Takeru fanfiction.  
  
Digital Romance-1.   
  
aew  
  
  
  
Author's Note(s, probably): This was done on a dare. I would like to thank Pogo's Collector Card World for their magazine special on Digimon. Without it, I wouldn't have the Japanese names of the Season 02 kids. Arigatou, Pogo-san! For those less fortunate, Miyako is Yolei in the NA version and Takeru is T.K. Obviously. I don't believe in Takeru and Hikari as a couple. I like a lot of those kinds of fanfics, but I'm a Miyakeru believer. Actually, I wasn't at first-I liked Sorato, Mimiro, and Daisuke x Hikari (Daikari, cause it's a combo of their names, but mainly cause I like the sound of it. So there.)- I was never sure of Takeru OR Miyako at first. Then Britt (God bless her odd-Digimon-couples-loving-heart) and I were playing a snappy game of Truth or Dare in Spanish 1 when our teacher left for twenty-two minutes because of some office trouble. I was dared to write a Miyakeru limey fic. Thus, "A Little More" and the firm establishment of my Miyakeru-ness.  
  
  
  
This is the first in a series called-----Digital Romance. Hence above. The next one is actually a songfic. It's the first (so I believe) Daikari fic. The title-"Wish That I Was There"; the song-.."Wish That I Was There"; by-Hanson.   
  
  
  
Um, there's quite a bit of Sorato in THIS story, to satisfy me and the Sorato fans out there. We all know they'd be great together-face it.  
  
  
  
Rating: Hmmm…well, it IS a bit limey at one point (WHAT?! STOP TYPING LIKE THAT!!! Yeesh!), and there IS some, uh, crude language (thank-you, Yamato! Brotherly advice at the loudest possible decibel and given in the most disapproving way!) so I'm putting it at (movie level) PG-13. If it were on TV, it'd be TV-Y14. I'll never hear the end of this from my parents.  
  
  
  
And now (Finally!) the fanfic!  
  
  
  
  
  
A Little More.  
  
A Miyako/Takeru fic.  
  
Digital Romance-1.  
  
aew  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: Digimon and all characters mentioned herein belonging to said series are the property of Toei Animation, Inc., Bandai, Fox-whatever, and any other companies that have property on the series. This fanfiction work, however, belongs to me. Plagiarism is illegal, and if I find out that you have plagiarized this story, I WILL notify you.   
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
The pleasant hum of the electric fan strategically placed on Takeru's dresser blew his golden hair in little circles. This, however, went unnoticed by the thirteen-year old boy as he was currently sound asleep on his rather messy bed. His angelic Asian blue eyes were closed and his eyelashes were dark against his light skin.  
  
  
  
He made an 'mm' noise and shifted, successfully kicking off what little of his sheets had remained somehow on his lithe body. Dressed in a tight blue tank-top that was as sweaty as it was tight and loose, wrinkled black boxers, Takeru was dressed like any teenage boy who had nothing to do over the summer.  
  
  
  
Dirty clothing and the common snack wrapper littered the floor, obscuring the carpet from view. The color of his bedroom carpet was and is a mystery to all living things on the planet.  
  
  
  
"Takeru?" a soft voice whispered gently and he shifted again, mumbling something unintelligible.   
  
  
  
Rolling her eyes in exasperation, his mother opened the door as far as she could-which, of course, wasn't very far seeing as he had a massive dirty sock buildup in that area of his room. She knocked her hand on the inside of his door, hesitating to wake him from his early afternoon nap.   
  
  
  
In the hallway, a tall-slightly pretty-girl waited, a couple of thin books held in her arms. Wrinkling her nose to push her large wire-frame glasses up, the girl shifted weight to her other feet. Her hair about reached the tips of her shoulder blades and it was dark purple so as not to draw attention to her, her voice did that on its own. Dressed in a yellow t-shirt and a knee-long red skirt with a sunflower dotted hankerchief wrapped over her forehead and sweeping her hair back in a ponytail of sorts, Miyako was dressed for summer.  
  
  
  
Unfortunately, that summer was to be spent tutoring Sleeping Beauty aforementioned because of considerably low grades in his mother's opinion.   
  
  
  
Sighing almost inaudibly, Miyako touched the woman's slender arm lightly. "Um, Takaishi-san, I can wake him up. You go finish what you were doing." Takaishi-san, as she was called, smiled gratefully, and padded silently down the hall.  
  
  
  
Miyako thought for a moment and groaned. Well, that was smart-how'm I gonna wake him up?, she thought despairingly.  
  
  
  
She shrugged and began picking her way slowly across the room.   
  
  
  
Takeru stretched unconsciously right when she reached the edge of his bed, and she was given a very unexpected view of his muscles. Frozen, Miyako's mouth opened suddenly and she blinked several times. Okay, backtrack a moment, Miyako…, she thought to herself.  
  
  
  
A dreamy smile crossed Takeru's face and he buried his face in his pillow, arm flopping over the back of his head. Throughout this, Miyako remained open-mouthed, frozen, and slightly…attracted?  
  
  
  
Instantly, she shuddered. You like Daisuke, remember? Not good ol' Takeru!  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
Takeru opened one eye and was greeted by blackness. Thusly, it was no surprise he panicked (having had bad experiences with darkness in the Digital world), snapped both eyes open and shot upright.   
  
  
  
Breathing heavily, he noticed someone was standing beside his bed. Turning, Takeru grinned as he saw Miyako's familiar, if unfamiliarly red, face. Being his normal cheerful self, he chirped, "'Lo, Miyako-chan!" without thinking that maybe he should put something else on.  
  
  
  
"K-k-konnichi wa, Takeru-kun." (A.N. I'm not using any suffixes unless it's an adult.) Miyako immediately averted her gaze and found sudden interest in what was apparently something along the lines of a suffocated cricket that was nestled in a black shirt with a Pikachu on it.   
  
  
  
Quickly grabbing a shirt off his bedside table and rooting for a pair of jeans under his cot-bed, Takeru slipped the clothing articles on quickly.  
  
  
  
Miyabo's face went even redder under her hair as she heard the zipper of his jeans and she silently cursed whatever god had thought it would be funny to do this to her. "Hey, Miya', whatcha doing here?" Takeru called, voice light.  
  
  
  
Remembering the books she now held tightly in her hands, she turned, grateful that her face had cooled down. "To study, remember?"  
  
  
  
A frown graced his adorable face. "Darn."  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
The water lapped, silent and cold against the edge of the cement pool. Crystal blue, the chlorinated water was still aside from the gentle current caused by the motor underneath.   
  
  
  
The girl stood on the edge of a diving board, her toes hooked on it. She tossed her silky hair back and took a deep breath, positioning herself to leap in.   
  
  
  
When an imaginary whistle exploded in her mind, she launched herself fluidly into a perfect dive, sliding with just a tiny ripple into the welcoming water. She kept her eyes closed, savoring the brushing fingers of her only lover-the one that did not exist yet, but somehow lived in the caressing water. Needs and petty jealousies could not reach her in this haven, this cloud, this perfect realm of golden dreams. For a single moment, she was a well-loved queen dancing with a sprite of old.  
  
  
  
Unseen eyes watched her from above, by the edge of her heaven. A fleeting glimmer of longing touched the eyes the color of the water and then vanished in the eternal twin oceans of hope.  
  
  
  
She kicked her legs once, twice, thrice, and slipped above the water, breaking the surface and once again entering the world of life.  
  
  
  
"Bravo!" a voice broke through her reverie, followed by friendly clapping.  
  
  
  
Startled, Miyako whirled, her hair forming an almost circle around her shoulders. Takeru stood there, a gentle smile formed by his lips and he winked as he pulled a pool chair up to the edge, sitting on it. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his bare knees (he sported green shorts and the black Pikachu shirt), and in turn rested his chin in his hands. He cocked one golden eyebrow and laughed at her bemused expression.  
  
  
  
"What, can't I hang out with my friends?" he teased.  
  
  
  
Miyako blushed lightly and swam towards the ladder. "Hey, hey! Don't bother-I'll join you, 'kay?"   
  
  
  
The purple-haired girl watched in surprise as her friend stripped off his shirt, once again giving her a view of his muscles in movement.   
  
  
  
"What ARE you doing, Takeru?"  
  
  
  
He grinned rakishly at her before yelling, "Incoming!" She shrieked and ducked underwater, managing to avoid the shockwave coming from his landing. Spitting out water and laughing at the same time, Takeru came up, shaking his head, which sent tiny water droplets flying into the air.  
  
  
  
Miyako came up as well and she tried to glare at him, but his giggles were contagious and she leaned against the pool wall, chuckling in spite of herself.   
  
  
  
Takeru's face became serious and he looked at her strangely, as if he was looking at her from far away. She tried to remember if she had some dirt on her face-absurd, as she was in a pool- or if she had forgotten something that would be a source of embarrassment later on for her. Then, to her surprise, Takeru shyly said, "Your swimsuit's nice. You look good in red."  
  
  
  
She blushed and replied softly, "Thanks."  
  
  
  
An uncomfortable moment ensued and they both avoided looking at each other.  
  
  
  
"Well, uh, I probably should go," she said, breaking the silence. "Yeah.." Takeru trailed off.  
  
  
  
Miyako swiftly lifted herself out, unaware of his eyes noting every move of hers. She grabbed her towel and her clothes and briskly set out to the changing room, wondering if she was going insane.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
For once in his life, Takaishi Takeru was looking forward to studying. Of course, it wasn't the actual STUDYING part, it was mainly getting to see Miyako again, but still, at least he was looking forward to it.  
  
  
  
Pausing in front of the mirror once again, he worriedly studied his countenance. He'd already tried combing his hair. That hadn't worked except to scratch his scalp painfully.   
  
  
  
He smiled at his own behavior and thought again of Miyako.   
  
  
  
Takeru wasn't sure of when exactly he had accepted Hikari as just a friend and when he noticed that Miyako was kind of sweet and pretty; he was sure that the erratic pulse he felt in his chest and the tingle he felt whenever they accidentally bumped wrists or brushed against each other in the halls of the school meant something was going to happen.  
  
  
  
He hazily recalled he'd been having a dream that one afternoon when Miyako came over to tutor him… something about lemons and Miyako. Wrinkling his nose, he shrugged. Probably wasn't anything.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
Miyako nervously entered Takeru's room, praying to whatever deity existed that she wouldn't embarrass herself. Her student was sitting cross-legged on his cot-bed, staring out the small window by the foot of it.  
  
  
  
She swallowed and reminded herself that there wasn't anything to worry about, because they were FRIENDS. Only FRIENDS, and you don't fell nervous around FRIENDS. "Um, konnichi wa, Takeru."  
  
  
  
He snapped his head around and beamed at her. "Konnichi wa, Miyako!" Takeru scooted over and swung his legs over the edge of his bed. "C'mon!"  
  
  
  
Carefully, she left the door open a crack, like always, and didn't notice that it slid shut with a   
  
quiet click. Raising an eyebrow at the completely clean room, she calmly walked across the room and took a seat beside him.  
  
  
  
Opening both their books, she handed him his while avoiding any hand or eye contact and settled hers on her lap.  
  
  
  
Takeru squeezed his eyes shut, swallowed, and summoned up all the courage he had. He knew what he was about to do was going to be completely out of character, but he knew without a doubt if he didn't do it NOW, he'd either go insane or do it later.  
  
  
  
Miyako swept a strand of her hair behind one ear and took a breath. "All right, Takeru, what are the two major political parties of the American society?" she said, mindful to keep any emotion out of her voice, eyes still on the book. She received no answer and she blinked. "Takeru?"  
  
  
  
She looked up and she lost her mouth. Her eyes widened and she stared in shock at Takeru.  
  
  
  
Pure fire swept from the rough kiss he was giving her through her veins and to every part of her body. Her eyes drifted shut and she briefly thought of Daisuke, but that too was lost as Takeru gently laid her down, his lips still devouring hers.  
  
  
  
When he pulled away, his eyes were a dark shade of indigo she never had known he had the genetics for. Breathing came hard for both Takeru and Miyako.  
  
  
  
Licking his lower lip, he kept his eyes from focusing on her lips and trained them on her large purple eyes. "Please?" he whispered shyly, chest heaving.  
  
  
  
Miyako wondered at the fact that some of the shy, polite Takeru had managed to stay alive in this new side she hadn't known existed. Then she smiled. Linking her hands behind his neck, she pulled him down and kissed him gently once and then, to his surprise and delight, she crushed her lips against his with all the fury he had put on hers.  
  
  
  
Grateful that his mother was on the phone-gods knew she'd take hours just gabbing away-and downstairs, Takeru moved his hands away from her shoulders where he had placed them, he used one to pull the blue hankerchief she was wearing out of her hair and then weaving his fingers in the released locks. The other hand, the naughtier one, slipped under her blouse and he traced the line of her bra with one finger.  
  
  
  
Grinning as she finally let go of the kiss, he wiggled his eyebrows at her and pressed his mouth against hers again, slipping his tongue inside. She briefly thought of what her mother would say of what she was doing, but she shrugged it off and felt her senses explode when his hand slipped under her bra and brushed against her soft skin, leaving a burning trail.  
  
  
  
Gathering her nerve, she pulled him down on top of her and slid her own tongue into his mouth.  
  
  
  
For a few more moments, they tasted each other's mouths as he molded her.  
  
  
  
A gentle thud-thud-thud-thud sound came from the general area of the staircase and Takeru winced. "Mom," he muttered.  
  
  
  
They pulled apart and straightened their clothing, retrieving their books from the floor where they had fallen.  
  
  
  
The room was silent until Miyako left.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
Ishida Yamato, rebel, bass guitarist, idolized teen rock singer, and all around loner kind of guy, was putty. However, in one set of hands alone was he putty, and it was the hands of someone that no one would expect. Takenouchi Sora, popular, tomboyish soccer player, motherly advice giver, and all around loveable kind of gal, was the owner of that one set of hands.  
  
  
  
Dressed in a plain white shirt and white jeans, Yamato had his eyes closed, head resting in the lap of his closest friend and sole confidante. Sora, dressed in a matching outfit, giggled and tapped his nose with one finger. He opened one deep blue eye and attempted a one-eyed glare, which melted when she wrinkled her nose and shook her head slightly, a pout on her face. Reaching up with one hand, he lifted a few strands of her red-brown hair. "Have I mentioned you look exceedingly gorgeous today?" he asked, a look of pure bliss on his face. She laughed and caught his hand with her own. "Only about fourteen times." The two were on a couch in her mother's apartment; her mother was in the kitchen, smiling to herself over teenage antics.   
  
  
  
He sighed. Abruptly, he sat up and grabbed her shoulders. "I just had a wildly crazy idea," he announced and she put on her sternest face. "Yamato, if you think I'm going to go do THAT again, you're a nut." Yamato sniffed in his most dignified manner. "Well, I am most insulted, mademoiselle," he haughtily declared with a French accent. She giggled helplessly, reminded of THAT night. Dining at an expensive French restaurant with a teenage grunge-rock band was something she'd never forget.  
  
  
  
"Actually," he began again, then paused, eyes twinkling. Leaning forward till their foreheads touched, he grinned devilishly. "Don't I have a reputation for being a bad boy?" he asked her, voice taking the tinge of devil-may-care he usually had. Cautiously, she nodded, settling herself into the couch cushions. "Well, then. Can't disappoint the public, then, can we?" Her eyes widened and he growled playfully, play-lunging at her and kissing her soundly.  
  
  
  
Mrs. Takenouchi whirled around and brandished a soup ladle like a sword. "Ah, thy   
  
mannerisms speak for thee. Dare thee threaten fair maiden's virginity?" she spoke.  
  
  
  
Leaping off the couch, Yamato grabbed a pillow and held it up as a shield. "Who cares if I have sex with Sora?" he said in an offhand manner. Sora sputtered and turned red as her mother threw her head back and laughed.  
  
  
  
"At least don't do it on my furniture where I can see you!" Mrs. Takenouchi called back. "I'll take that as a 'go ahead', ma'am," he bowed.  
  
  
  
Sora grinned, though still fire-engine red. "Mother and Yamato. Your reputations would be shot if the public saw you like this." Both blanched and her mother returned to her kitchen, Yamato dropping the pillow back on the couch.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
Yamato held Sora's hand as they slowly strolled down the sidewalk, each lost in their own thoughts. The summer evening was remarkably cooler than the summer afternoon, and they walked closer together without saying a word.   
  
  
  
Love is a special thing, Yamato thought to himself and he half-smiled, casting a glance at the sixteen-year old next to him. He could remember five years ago, when they all first met at the camp. He was saddened, thoughts of Gabumon fluttering around his mind. Blinking back sudden tears, Yamato absently brushed a hand across his eyes.  
  
  
  
Sora looked up at him and she smiled. She knew he pretended to be tough a lot, and she knew personally that he was more sensitive than anyone she'd met before. She rested her head against his arm and thought back, letting the memories wash through her.  
  
  
  
Most of them had Yamato somewhere in them. When Yamato had left the group and he reappeared to destroy Puppetmon. She felt the twinge of joy she had felt then, calling his name and stepping forward. She could feel the confusion from then as he cast her a look so full of mature emotions she hadn't understood then, but did now. And she recalled Biyomon with happiness and sorrow.  
  
  
  
Passerby smiled as they passed the couple that had drawn closer, taking strength from each other.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
Takeru held his breath, silently praying as the dial rang in his ear. Please let Yamato be home, please let him be home.   
  
  
  
There was a sound as the phone was picked up and he heard an absent-sounding "Moshi-moshi?" from what sounded like Sora. "Sora?" "Takeru! Hi!" "Uh, can I, can I speak with Yamato?" "Sure thing, wait a sec."  
  
  
  
"'Lo, Takeru?"  
  
  
  
"Yeah, it's, uh, it's me."  
  
  
  
There was a moment of silence and then Takeru let his conscience be cleared as he spilled out what had happened with Miyako into the speaker.  
  
  
  
When he got no response from his older brother, he wondered faintly if his life was a complete nightmare…  
  
  
  
"Sora and I are coming over."  
  
  
  
Takeru felt relief, then dread as he noted Yamato's flat tone of voice. That was never good.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
"Konban wa, Yamato! What're you doing over here so late? And who's this lovely young woman?"  
  
  
  
Sora smiled at the woman she recognized as Yamato and Takeru's mother. "Konban wa, Takaishi-san, you probably don't recognize me, but we've met before."  
  
  
  
"Excuse me."  
  
  
  
Both women turned at Yamato's flat voice and both moved away as one. Though his voice conveyed no emotion, his eyes were burning and furious.   
  
  
  
He swept past them and up the stairs, taking them two at a time.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
Takeru had his hands woven into his hair and was within three inches of being a nervous wreck when his door slammed open with a jarring noise. He snapped his head up and stared at his older brother whose face was darker than a rainy day.   
  
  
  
"Oh, man…" Takeru whispered and he signed himself off as a dead man.  
  
  
  
Yamato slammed the door shut behind him and Takeru winced visibly. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to call him…  
  
  
  
"Okay, Takeru, I'm here. And now we're gonna talk."  
  
  
  
Silence.  
  
  
  
"What the hell were you thinking?! What kind of shit are you trying to prove?!"  
  
  
  
Takeru winced again as his brother walked calmly towards him, face livid. "Did you even think about what could have happened if you went too far?"  
  
  
  
Wince.  
  
  
  
Step.  
  
  
  
"Why didn't you use your damn head?!"  
  
  
  
Wince.  
  
  
  
Step.  
  
  
  
"Why…urgh! Damn, damn, damn!"  
  
  
  
Takeru winced yet again and bit his lip until drops of crimson blood welled up. Yamato pulled him up in a single, fluid motion and they stared at each other. Takeru was afraid of Yamato for the first time-he had never been yelled at by his older brother, no matter what junk he had pulled.   
  
  
  
"Why. Were. You. Such. An. Ass?" Yamato gritted from behind his teeth in an effort to keep from yelling.   
  
  
  
Takeru blinked rapidly and opened his mouth but no words came out. He tried again, with better results. "Yamato.. I'm sorry… I… Well, haven't you ever done anything with Sora?!" he snapped back. Instantly, he pulled back, ashamed of himself.  
  
  
  
Yamato's expression softened. "I'm sorry for yelling.. but you pulled a helluva lot of shit with Miyako. You're thirteen, for Kami-sama's sake!" He took a deep breath. "I've never done anything with Sora. Listen, you've got to be more responsible, kid. Joke around about it if you want, hell, I do. But don't DO it."  
  
  
  
Takeru let the tears finally come.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
"Moshi-moshi?"  
  
  
  
"Um, ohayo, Miyako-chan."  
  
  
  
"Ohayo, Takeru-kun."  
  
  
  
"Um, I'm calling to apologize for, uh, for, um…stop it, Yamato!…you know, the, uh,   
  
THING."  
  
  
  
"Oh, I was gonna call you for the same reason…"  
  
  
  
"You were? Sugoi."  
  
  
  
"…."  
  
  
  
"…."  
  
  
  
"…."  
  
  
  
"So, um, you and your mom wanna come over Saturday?"  
  
  
  
"Sure."  
  
  
  
"Ja ne! Waitasec…"  
  
  
  
"Nani, Takeru?"  
  
  
  
"….aishiteru…."  
  
  
  
"Arigatou. A-aishiteru."  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
Yeah! Done! Woohoo! Okay, now for Japanese terms I probably used.  
  
  
  
-chan=used for a girl same age or younger as the speaker, or for a guy that is a close friend, lover,   
  
or relative  
  
  
  
-kun=used for a boy same age or younger as the speaker  
  
  
  
-san=term of respect for an older man or woman  
  
  
  
-sama=reserved for royalty/angels/or Kami (God)  
  
  
  
Kami-sama=God  
  
  
  
sugoi=cool  
  
  
  
konnichi wa=good afternoon  
  
  
  
konban wa=good evening  
  
  
  
ohayo=good morning  
  
  
  
ja ne=see 'ya  
  
  
  
aishiteru=very formal/romantic/sweet way of saying 'I love you'  
  
  
  
moshi-moshi=a hello generally used for answering the phone (which should clear up that last scene for ya'll)  
  
  
  
nani=what  
  
  
  
arigatou=thank-you  
  
  
  
That's about it! I'm gonna go write a story involving Sora and Yamato's band at a French restaurant. (Wei, wei, monsieur and madams! Heck, even you mademoiselles!)  
  
  
  
Ja ne!  
  
  
  
PallaPlease.  
  
  
  
Angel of Daikari, Miyakeru, Wiloyo(Willis/WallacexMadison Taylor/Daidouji Tomoyo)  



End file.
